


Mixing Nectar in the Cups

by Sineala



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Post-Canon, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca is right for all the wrong reasons. (Or: Transitivity is not a property of Roman mythology.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Nectar in the Cups

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysimache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysimache/gifts).



> Lysimache asked me for a story in which Marcus and Esca visit the house where [this mosaic](http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/mosaics_gallery_10.shtml) is located. This is the result.

As the slaves swept away the meal's scattered bones, more and more of the mosaic on the floor of the summer dining-room became visible, and Marcus, heady with wine, grinned to see it. It was a pleasing thing, striking in its fierceness. Why, here was Jupiter in eagle-form, bright-feathered and bold, snatching up Ganymede in his Phrygian garb.

"This is well done," he told Valerius, gesturing unsteadily at the floor.

On the couch across from him, their host nodded diplomatically. "I am glad you think so," Valerius said, but there was an unease in his face that suggested Marcus might be too free with his praise. Surely Marcus had not had that much wine.

"I don't understand."

That was Esca in front of him, squinting at the same mosaic and pressing back on him against the couch. Esca was a comfortable, warm presence. It was nice, he thought, to have Esca so close, next to him. Oh, Esca was always nearby, these days on the farm, but Esca hardly touched him. Sometimes he half-missed the chill of Caledonia and his friend's body wrapped around his.

"What is there to understand?" Marcus stared at Esca. "It is Ganymede and Jupiter, of course."

Esca made a noise halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Of course? Marcus, do I expect you to understand my gods without being told?"

Somehow he had lost the thread of the conversation. "No?" he ventured, and then he raised an explanatory hand to Valerius. "He's British, you see, my friend is. Esca. My friend."

Valerius nodded, looking more and more disapproving.

"Marcus," Esca suggested, more insistently, "I think perhaps we should go home soon, hmm?"

The relief in their host's eyes was nearly palpable, and Marcus could see it would be better this way. "I, er, I think I'd like my sandals. Thank you for the evening."

Smiling, Valerius beckoned the slaves over.

* * *

"I'm not that drunk," he told Esca, as they picked their way down the road. It was not far to the farm, and the torch Esca held, thankfully, provided more than enough light to see by.

He could, in fact, see Esca smiling at him and shaking his head. "Oh, Marcus."

"I--" He had to stop, suddenly, for the world was wobbling. "All right, maybe I am."

"Here," said Esca, and Esca was close again, Esca's hand was warm against his back, as Esca guided him to a fallen log at the side of the road. "Sit."

He sat, and he was surprised when Esca joined him, sliding one leg over the wood to sit astride it as if the thing were a horse.

"Very agreeable, you are," Esca said, and he laughed a little, a strange sound. "I wonder, will you do anything I say?"

Marcus grinned at him. _I'd have to think about it first_ was the perfectly reasonable thought that came to mind, but what came out of his mouth was "Find out."

"Then--" Esca drew the word out-- "while we're here, tell me about your Ganymede. I would like to hear the story." The way he said it, he made it sound like it was not the first thing he had wanted to ask, but it was, after all, what he had said.

Marcus spread his hands wide, incredulous. "The story? You are asking the wrong person if you want a fine story, Esca."

"I want to hear it from you." Esca smiled again, and damn him, but Marcus could not deny Esca anything when he smiled. "It's not as if we're doing anything else."

"All right." Marcus cleared his throat. "It is a short story, really. Ganymede was a Trojan youth, oh, a thousand years ago, at least, and he was the most beautiful of mortals. Jupiter saw him and desired to possess him, and so he swooped down--" here he made grabbing motions with his hands-- "in the form of an eagle, his eagle, and he plucked the boy up from Mount Ida where he was tending sheep."

He knew his delivery of the tale would have put his tutors to shame, but nonetheless Esca leaned forward, enraptured. "And then what?"

Marcus stared. "What do you think he wanted with the boy? Jupiter made him his lover, and he loved him so greatly that he made him immortal and appointed him cupbearer to the gods."

"Oh."

And Esca was silent a long time, seeming to consider Marcus' words as though they were of the greatest import. "The eagle is Jupiter?" he asked, finally. "It is that significant?"

Was Esca even more drunk than he was? They had gone to Caledonia to rescue the damned standard together. He had thought Esca had understood exactly what they were doing. "Yes, of course!" said Marcus, irritated. "The eagle is Jupiter, the eagle is Rome, the eagle is the military -- it is all part of the same thing."

Esca planted the torch in the dirt behind him and stared at him, and the look in his eyes was--

"Marcus," Esca breathed, "why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

And then Esca's hands were making fists in the front of his toga and Esca was dragging him forward and kissing him and kissing him and it was everything Marcus had ever wanted except he could not figure out why by all the gods it was finally happening now. But that did not matter, because Esca was here, Esca was with him at last. Not being one to let an opportunity slip from him, he locked his fingers into Esca's hair and kissed him back just as hard, leaning forward, and--

They fell off the log.

Several confused moments later, after Esca had untangled his arms from Marcus' toga, Marcus stared into Esca's bright eyes and the explanation finally occurred to him. Esca had not kissed him until he had told him the story. No, Esca had not kissed him until he had told him about the eagle. Because-- because--

Oh.

"Esca?"

"Hmm?" Esca brushed his lips against Marcus' cheek, laughing, and it was glorious. Marcus hated to correct him, but it was a thing Esca ought to know.

"I think you might-- I think I might have said that the wrong way." He paused. "Even though the eagle is Jupiter's bird, and even though he loved Ganymede, it doesn't mean that soldiers are-- that we all enjoy--"

How was he going to put this?

Esca, ahead of him already, was frowning. "You all are-- oh. But you--" he gestured down at how they lay together-- "you seemed to want--"

"Oh, I do," Marcus said quickly. "I do, believe me." And, daring, he slid a hand between them, just to hear Esca moan, to watch Esca's eyes go unfocused.

"Then what," Esca whispered, finally putting words together, "are you trying to tell me?"

"That you might not want to try that trick on any other soldiers you meet. Or former soldiers."

"Oh," Esca said, a quiet, thoughtful sound, and then: "Luckily, I would be very happy with just one of them."

"I think we understand each other completely," Marcus said, and he kissed Esca again.


End file.
